


Take You to the Stars

by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: F/F, First Time, Kissing, Lots of kissing, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Switching, Vaginal Fingering, or rather Rose is just being stubborn but what's new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: The last thing Rose wants to do is push Alisha into a situation she’s uncomfortable with.So Rose decides to do the opposite: make it so that there are no situations where sex could be an outcome. That’ll solve the problem and stop any temptations before they get started and then both of them can walk away from a perfectly innocent kissing and groping session hunky-dory.It’s a great plan.It’s going to be fine.
Relationships: Alisha Diphda/Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	Take You to the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilentShanin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentShanin/gifts).



Alisha’s giggle fills what little space there is between them, and Rose enjoys all too well the way her knees brush against either side of her. Slowly, she rubs her nose against Alisha’s. She watches as that bright, meek smile blooms wide before she steals another kiss. This one lingers, caught—literally—by the pressure of Alisha’s fingers over the back of her head, holding her close. Preventing her from escaping. 

Oh, what hapless fate.

Rose lowers herself until she is flush over Alisha. Their breasts press round against one another as their mouths work slowly in a lazy, deep kiss. Alisha sighs into it and in between the part of her lips, Rose slips in her tongue and breathes in her startled gasp. It feels like fire; makes something curl low and happy in her stomach. 

Alisha’s fingers curl tighter in her hair, slipping around the curve of her scalp.

“You okay?” Rose breathes.

“Y-yes.” Alisha nods. With both hands, she pulls Rose down again to claim her lips. “I would like much more of that, please.”

Rose bites back a small groan.

Who is _she_ to say no to such a sweetly whispered request? 

She tilts her head into the next kiss and curls her tongue in Alisha’s mouth. There’s a quiet shudder in Alisha’s breath and a tremble in her chest. The hazy midmorning filtering in through Alisha’s balcony window coats them in pale light. Rose can both see and feel everything pressed against her like this. She skirts her fingers along Alisha’s waist, up and down and up and down—tiny, fluttering movements over Alisha’s black undershirt to trace the tiny twitches of her nerves like sparks.

Rose drags her tongue along Alisha’s and nips at her bottom lip.

Alisha’s hips bump up. She hitches another gasp.

Rose pushes down with her own body and slips the palms of her hands up either side of Alisha’s torso—following the gorgeous, swelling curve of her—until her thumbs brush against the sides of Alisha’s breasts. 

Alisha’s next gasp is shaky, desperate. Her chin lifts up, throat bared. It comes out as a bitten moan: “Oh, _Rose—”_

Immediately, Rose pushes herself upright. 

Alisha blinks. Her hands slip down Rose’s cheeks as she feels awfully cold along her front, now. “Rose?”

“What?”

“Is everything alright?”

Rose doesn’t know if she can answer. She’s not entirely sure she should. The sudden fear that snapped into place sounds stupid out loud, doesn’t it? Why does it sound stupid? It shouldn’t be stupid. These feelings and hesitations come from a point of concern and worry, don’t they? And besides— “I—uh—I just…I just remembered something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Rose swallows. “Gotta…gotta water the toilet.”

Alisha stares at her. A beat passes; then two. When Rose offers no other explanation, she prompts, “Uh.”

“Uh,” Rose echoes.

“Did you mean…you have to use the restroom?”

“Yes!” Rose practically shoots off the bed. She scurries towards the side door in the corner of Alisha’s bed-chamber and sticks her head out to shout, “Be right back!” before she slams it shut.

With the door at her back, Rose breathes and breathes and breathes and breathes.

She slides to the floor. 

Rose presses both hands over her red face and tries her best not to scream. It probably isn’t appropriate to hear your girlfriend panic after what was otherwise an utterly perfect make-out session.

* * *

The problem _isn’t_ that Alisha’s a virgin. 

Rather, it’s the opposite: the problem is that Rose is no stranger to sex. Sex is great; Rose loves the toss and roll of two sweaty bodies and the lick of heat in her stomach. She loves the thrill and pleasure; the sparks and the way she can sag into the sheets when it's over and feel so, so _good._ But to Rose, sex has always come without attachment: a random night here, an odd night there. Friends with benefits who hook up out of the blue because you both want release and oh look, she’s kinda hot, so why not?

But all of Rose’s experience across Glenwood has vastly unprepared her for anticipating sex with _Alisha._

That’s the root of her troubles.

There’s a lot of things to think about. Alisha’s a princess, for instance. How does sex work with princesses? Do they have to ‘stay pure’ for the throne? Even after all her time in Hyland, Rose doesn’t know how those kinds of things are expected to go in the kingdom. She’s kind of made it a point lately to stay _out_ of politics—Shepherd duties and all. So no; the only thing Rose is certain of is the fact that Alisha hasn’t had sex before and that must mean she probably isn’t _ready_ to have sex yet, which means that Rose has to be careful.

The last thing Rose wants to do is push Alisha into a situation she’s uncomfortable with.

So Rose decides to do the opposite: make it so that there are no situations where sex could be an outcome. That’ll solve the problem and stop any temptations before they get started and then both of them can walk away from a perfectly innocent kissing and groping session hunky-dory.

It’s a great plan. 

It’s going to be fine.

* * *

Everything’s falling apart.

Oh god. 

Why can’t Rose keep her hands to herself? Why doesn’t she ever _think?_

Rose has Alisha crowded against the wall in her bed-chamber, and they are kissing and kissing and kissing. Their breaths are hot and smokey against the other. Rose feels slightly drunk, giddy. She half-wonders if it’s because she had too much of that fine wine Alisha brought up from the palace cellar. But no. No, she only had two glasses. She’s fine. It’s just the high of tasting Alisha, then. Definitely tasting Alisha.

God, but she wants to taste _more._

Alisha gasps and tilts her head back as Rose’s mouth presses messy, wet kisses along her jaw. The princess’s golden ponytail is tussled; the band in her hair is slipping loose. There are stray strands sticking up everywhere, falling around her face in an errant way that Alisha is loath to let them do normally. There’s something about this sacred space that makes her feel comfortable with appearing brazen. Perhaps it’s the shadows, being cloaked in night. Maybe it’s this secret hour.

Rose leaves a trail down her neck.

Alisha gasps.

Her body jerks hips-first. Rose’s hands follow the movement, framing Alisha’s middle and squeezing. Pushing her back against the wall and sticking her knee in between Alisha’s legs. Her thigh bumps up, rubs.

Dear Maotelus, but the _sound_ Alisha _makes—_ whipped, desperate, and high—moaning her name— 

—it probably shouldn’t be happening. No. Scratch that: it _definitely_ shouldn’t be happening.

Rose gasps and tears away. Her face burns.

_Oh. Oh no._

“R…Rose?” Alisha is dazed, nearly humming. Does her voice have to sound so raspy? It’s doing things to Rose that’s making it extremely difficult to keep herself a fair and safe distance away. “Why’d you stop?”

“I—” _Think of something!_ “—I thought I heard someone calling you.”

Actually, Rose feels pretty impressed with herself. That’s a half-decent lie.

Alisha’s eyes blow wide. Immediately, she begins straightening out her uniform. She dusts off her thighs. Her face is nearly the same color as her outfit. “Wait, you did? Truly?”

Rose nods. “Y-yeah.” She looks away and scratches at her cheek. Her finger catches on a lock of red hair she hadn’t been aware was sticking there, caught perhaps in the corner of her mouth. She huffs. “Thought it came from further down the hall.”

Alisha tugs free her petal hair-band and pins it between her teeth as her fingers comb through her hair and pull it to the side. She moves for the door and loops the band around her hair once, twice. She cinches her ponytail tight. “Perhaps I should go check.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“Sorry to cut this short—”

“—no, no! Not at all! It’s fine!” Rose waves a hand and puts on a wide grin. 

With one hand on the door handle, Alisha turns back and smiles. She leans over to steal a final kiss before swinging it open. “I promise I won’t be gone long,” she hums and her voice dips low and sultry-like. “Wait for me?”

“Great! Uh, yeah! Of course!” Rose pumps her arm for good measure.

The instant the door is shut behind Alisha, Rose groans. She falls to a squat and covers her face. Thankfully, her muffled scream of panic does not leave the safe haven of her sweating palms.

* * *

Rose comes to the determination, after what feels like the twentieth instance of things getting too heated and heavy between them, that the issue is clearly with her hands. Her traitorous, sneaky hands. But how can she blame them? When kissing Alisha, it’s impossible for Rose to keep her hands to herself. Alisha is _right there_ in all her alluring beauty: her hips, her arms, her face. And at their close proximity, Rose wants to cling. She wants to hold, she wants to touch, she wants to _touch_ —

Well.

If her hands are the problem, then she’ll just have to keep those naughty things in check next time she visits Alisha.

* * *

It doesn’t work.

In place of holding Alisha, Rose takes to planting her hands firmly behind her back and leaving chaste pecks on Alisha’s lips. Playful things that if she does them silly enough, actually make Alisha smile. That lasts for about three days.

The next time they’re kissing, Alisha has Rose pinned to the wall of her study and Rose can’t help herself. Her back arches; her hands _have_ to touch—they _have_ to be everywhere—they have to grasp and tug at Alisha’s back, trying to desperately to find an opening, a gap or slit in her uniform to finally reach that desirable skin, skin, skin—

_—no. No. Bad hands. Bad._

Rose jerks them both away from Alisha, only to eventually return them to map out the shape of her jaw. Alisha makes a pleased, quiet noise; Rose takes it to mean this is okay. This is good. Encourageable. This isn’t going to draw out any more of those dangerous and keening moans.

And then Alisha’s hands skate around Rose’s thighs.

Rose jumps. 

She gasps into the kiss and for the second time that night yanks her hands away from Alisha. This time, it’s to snatch them around Alisha’s wrists, to pull them away. She doesn’t need to see a mirror to know how deeply her face must be burning and holds out Alisha’s arms at either side. “Lisha!”

Alisha pulls back, blinking. “Rose? Rose, is everything okay?” Fear flutters across her face. “O-oh. I’m so sorry. Did I go too far?”

The words aren’t finished falling out of Alisha’s mouth before Rose is shaking her head. She squeezes Alisha’s hands tight. “No! No. I just—” _Uh. Now what, genius?_ “—I just…really wanted to hold your hands! That’s all. Haha!” And with that, she swings them out on either side of them for good measure.

It gets a small, relieved smile out of Alisha, at least. 

“You’re…very silly tonight,” the princess hums.

“Thank you, I try.”

There’s a strange look in the green of Alisha’s eyes that Rose doesn’t know how to interpret. Had Alisha meant that as a compliment? It’s Alisha; how could she not have? 

Rose gives her another quick peck and decides it’s time for lazy—and far, far safer—cuddling. 

* * *

Another week passes.

The hot and heavy make-out sessions begin to ebb. There are a few days in a row where the most extreme things they do are light, gentle touches; lingering hand-holding. The occasional, sleepy cuddle or cheesy kiss.

And then it’s another Sunday evening and the night is pitch black beyond the wide balcony window and Rose, somehow, finds herself strangely alone.

It almost feels like a near-reversal of their roles so many nights ago. She draws idle, invisible patterns into the covers of Alisha’s bed with her fingertip as she waits; the other arm is folded under her head to pillow her cheek as she wonders why her stomach is tying itself up in knots. Nearly as soon as she snuck in through the balcony—her favored point of entry—Alisha had risen from the bed and excused herself. Now Rose is by herself in the grand bed-chamber and she’s _been_ by herself and she can’t help but fear there’s a reason for it.

The instant the door in the corner opens, Rose snaps upright. 

“There you are.” Rose forces out a hesitant laugh. There’s something subdued in Alisha’s expression as she nears; something that exponentially increases the tight tension in Rose’s chest each step she takes closer. “I was about to send in the cavalry after you. Worried you fell in or something.”

It’s the oldest joke in the book.

It does nothing to fix the thin line of Alisha’s mouth. 

Rose swallows; her smile fades. “Lisha—” 

“—Rose.”

They speak at the same time.

Quickly, all too eagerly, all too puppy-like, Rose slips closer to the edge of the mattress and throws her legs over. Her toes brush against the marble floor. “Yeah, Lisha? Is something wrong?”

“That’s what I fear I should be asking you.” 

Alisha looks to the side. Her hands hover in front of her stomach. She looks half-like she wants to wring them dry; half-like she’s not quite even sure what kind of body language she should display for the words she wants to say. 

Rose leans forward. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…” Alisha’s mouth flutters open and shut over and over again. When whatever words she’s searching for don’t come, she gestures with both hands towards herself and pins Rose with the most pitiful pair of green eyes she’s ever seen. It breaks her heart. “I mean _me,_ I suppose.”

“What?”

“Something must be wrong with me. Isn’t that it?” Alisha’s gaze travels away. “That’s what I keep telling myself must be the case.”

“What?” Rose says again. “Why?”

“Because!” Alisha expels a great force of air up from her lungs. She throws her hands to the sides. “I’ve been trying to make love to you the past two weeks, Rose!” 

Rose stares at her. Her mouth falls open.

“And every time that I try to show you that I want this, that I want this with _you,_ something always happens or you always make an excuse and run away. So now, I suppose there’s nothing to be done. I can draw no other conclusion other than the fact that—” 

“—wait, seriously? You want this? Sex? With me?”

_“Yes.”_ Alisha drags the word out into a groan. Her head does a funny little dip and bob with it that makes her ponytail bounce. “I’ve _been_ wanting it—wanting you—and trying to communicate how much I _want_ you! But each time, you’ve…”

Alisha’s voice trails off again.

In Rose’s head, white noise begins to build, something stunned and wordless. 

“Perhaps I misread the situation,” Alisha murmurs. “I thought the reason we never went any further than our…kisses and…all of our touching was because you were waiting for me to be ready. You are as thoughtful as I know you always are. But…” Alisha curls a hand in front of her mouth. There’s a worried bend to her brow. “Maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe you’re not interested in me like that at all?”

Rose comes back to herself and blinks. “What?”

Alisha turns away. “Regardless, I don’t intend to make you feel guilty. I just—I just wanted to say: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

Rose snaps to her feet and grabs Alisha’s shoulders with both hands. She turns her around. She thinks about saying something—anything at all—anything that might soothe the worry and hurt that’s contorting Alisha’s features—and instead, she only gets out Alisha’s name before she silences herself with a kiss.

It’s almost bruising. Their lips lock together hard, feverishly pressed against one another.

Alisha’s eyes blow wide before she kisses back just as much, just as ferociously. Just as desperately. Her fingers slip up to the nape of Rose’s neck. Her thumbs brush Rose’s jaw. 

The moment Rose pulls back, she blurts, “Lisha, having sex with you is literally the only thing my mind has been able to think about the past two weeks. You have no idea; I thought I was driving myself up the wall!”

“What? Truly?”

“Yes!” Rose laughs. It’s a breathless, freeing sound. It tosses her head back and makes her look skyward, lips parted wide. “But I was so, so scared you weren’t ready for it. I worried myself silly that I was continually putting you in a situation you didn’t want, so I just…avoided it entirely. I had to remove myself each time we got too close because I didn’t want to pressure you like that. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I did, you know?” 

“You? Pressure _me?”_

“I know, I know.” Rose laughs a little, quietly. She leans forward and brushes her forehead against Alisha’s. “I was being ridiculous. I get it. But I was convinced, and my sentiment still holds: I never want to make you feel like you have to _be_ ready for something you aren’t, Lisha.”

Alisha’s smile is everything soft and tender. Her gloved fingers interweave behind Rose’s neck. “I was right. How thoughtful and stubborn you are—to a fault, it seems.”

“You don’t have to say it like _that…”_

Rose wraps her arms around Alisha’s middle. She pulls her in flush against her front and falls back against the bed, parting her legs so Alisha could fit perfectly between them. Her fingers press into the small of Alisha’s back. “Damn. I’m sorry, Lisha. After everything you were trying so hard to tell me, I really was being a stubborn fool.”

“Well, in hindsight, you were only looking out for me, so I suppose you have nothing to apologize for.” Alisha’s smile softens. Her fingers toy with the ends of Rose’s hair, splayed out over the blankets. “Although I must confess, I think I am…very much ready now.”

Rose crooks an eyebrow. “Oh?” she hums with a curl at the edge of her lips.

“So.” Alisha clears her throat. “I mean, if _you’re_ still interested, and you _do_ want to make it up to me…”

Rose’s hands slip lower and slowly tease up the pink tunic end of Alisha’s uniform. A shiver passes through Alisha’s form; her eyes flutter. As soon as Rose takes hold of Alisha’s ass, her entire body stiffens. She gasps and with that sudden part of her lips, Rose snaps up for a kiss and steals the last of her breath. Her fingers press and squeeze, massaging slowly over the fabric of her shorts. Alisha’s exhale shakes against her lips.

“What was it you were going to say, Lisha?” Rose grins. “How do you want me to make up to you all of our wasted time?”

Alisha’s face burns red. Her name comes out in a quiet, pinched moan. “Rose…”

Rose rolls her hips up slowly, lazily—lets the undulation travel down her form from her shoulders to her thighs—and she pulls Alisha by her ass into it, grinding them together. 

Alisha’s next gasp is electric. Her lips flutter closed and open, closed and open, a hair’s breadth above Rose’s mouth. She swallows and when Rose moves a second, slow, tantalizing time, Alisha ducks her head with a tiny, mousy whimper. Her forehead brushes against Rose’s jaw. “Rose—nngh— _Rose_ —”

Rose kisses the side of her head. “You like that?”

“Y-yes. Yes.”

“Good.” Rose gives another kiss, lingering at the shell of Alisha’s ear. “If you really are as ready as you say you are, then I can do even more. If you’d like.”

“I would like that very much.”

Rose’s fingers find the waistline of Alisha’s shorts and toy with them. She presses one tip of her finger between the lining and Alisha’s skin and enjoys the sudden twitch of her nerves that follows her touch. “In order to do that, though, we’re going to have to take this off.”

“Can we just take it all off?”

Rose tilts her head back and laughs. Alisha lifts her head from her neck.

“I mean, yeah?” Rose snickers. “That’s kinda the plan. But uh, some people might think that’s rushing things, you know.”

“Well, some people haven’t had to wait two weeks for their girlfriends to get their act together and realize—” Rose is already laughing all over again. “—stop that, I’m being somewhat serious here—realize that their aforementioned girlfriend has been trying to get in her pants all this time.”

Alisha only stops talking because of how quickly Rose silences her with her mouth and tongue. Then, Alisha has other things to concern herself with.

When Rose leans back, she grins. “All right, all right. You win. I suppose I _am_ the one that’s supposed to be making this up to you.”

“I’m very glad you’ve remembered this.”

“If you want all our clothes off, just say the word.”

Alisha smiles. She pushes herself up to her knees and lets her hands drift down the outside of Rose’s thighs. In her wake, Rose is sure that she can feel sparks, little miniature storms that charge and light up her nerves.

Her hands stop at Rose’s knees to cup and squeeze.

“Then yes, Rose. I’d very much like our clothes off now, thank you.”

“With pleasure, your highness.”

* * *

Alisha’s hair has never looked as good as it does splayed out over her own pale pink pillows. The princess adjusts herself, looking back and forth across the mattress. She shifts minutely right and then left again, continually looking up at Rose with a curious and worried pinch to her brows. “Is this all right?”

“Shit, Lisha, how can any part of this be wrong?”

“N-no.” Alisha’s face flushes. She gets her hands underneath herself, pushes herself upright, and gestures to the mattress with a hand. “That’s not quite what I…I mean, am I centered?”

“Are you—” 

Rose has to cover her mouth when a barking laugh escapes her. She turns away and then back, grinning widely. “Sorry, sorry. You’re fine. It’s just kinda funny. Trust me. I’ve hooked up in _much_ tighter spaces. This giant-ass bed of yours gives us _plenty_ of real estate to move around in, Lisha. You have nothing to worry about.”

The pink in Alisha’s face spreads from the tip of her forehead down to her collar and across her shoulders. She nods slowly.

Rose puts a hand on her shoulder and slowly rubs a small circle around a spot of freckles with her thumb. “Doing okay?”

“Yes.”

“You can change your mind at any time, you know.”

“Rose.” The frowning look on Alisha’s face is enough to quiet any other offers of waiting or _not now’s_ that Rose had ready on the tip of her tongue. “Just because I am nervous does not mean I don’t want this. Do not mistake my apprehension for disinterest.”

Slowly, Rose’s grin widens. She rises up on her knees. It’s flattering, she thinks, the way Alisha’s eyes dart to her breasts while she moves. 

“All right then,” Rose hums and presses on Alisha’s shoulder again. “Lay back. I’ve got you.”

Alisha nods. She sucks in a quick breath when she stretches herself out, but both of her arms cross oddly over her middle. Rose takes hold of her wrists and without breaking eye contact, slowly unfolds them. She pins them to either side of Alisha’s shoulders and raises an eyebrow. When Alisha nods and continues nodding, Rose lowers her mouth to Alisha’s stomach and presses a gentle kiss above a thin, sharp scar. 

There are several of them along Alisha’s person. Two crisscrossing over Alisha’s pale thigh like an ‘X.’ Another dark pucker of a round scar at Alisha’s side, just above her hip bone that Rose would love to know the story behind. A few long, intersecting scars at her shoulders. One crosses her collar, but stops short of her breast and teases at her neck.

“Damn,” Rose breathes. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Alisha’s skin turns pink again. It’s adorable, the way it spreads and licks at her skin. Stretches down like paint all across her. When she breathes, her chest rises and falls and there’s something in the movement of that—in the way it speeds up or slows down the higher Rose’s mouth travels—that’s intoxicating to watch. “W-well, thank you.”

Rose hums and kisses up the plane of Alisha’s stomach to her chest. She feels every hitch under her lips from a stuttered breath.

“May I?”

“P-please.”

Rose releases Alisha’s right wrist and uses her hand to push up Alisha’s breast. She takes the bud in her mouth and sucks.

Alisha’s gasp is open-mouthed. Awed. Her head tilts up. One of her legs jerks and bumps against Rose’s side. Her chest surges up and down and up and down and Rose loves the quickness of it. Loves the sense of surprise and shock that she can hear in the thread of her breath—like she hadn’t known it could feel this good. 

A little scrape of teeth, a massage, and squeeze of her fingers, and Alisha’s back straightens, her head lolls to the side. Rose thinks she can hear her name whispered again. She squeezes the pert, malleable flesh with her hand and lifts her head. “Like that, too?”

“O-oh. Oh yes. Very much.”

Rose grins and lowers her head to her other breast. “Good.”

Rose sucks and fiddles and squeezes with her fingers and somewhere in between the next gentle toy of her teeth and lap of her tongue over her breast, Alisha’s hips bump up. It’s a short, jerky movement before her hips fall back to the mattress. A quiet, almost frustrated whine escapes her. Rose hums around her sensitive skin and finally, after a pause and pop of her lips, she releases Alisha’s breast.

“Why, Lisha, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it almost seems like you _want_ something…”

The pink has spread across Alisha’s skin; the black of her eyes are blown wide when she snaps them down to look at Rose. Her tongue peeks out and traces the curve of her own parted lips. Rose follows the motion with her eyes; heat pools low in her stomach. “Hasn’t that been the…focal point of our previous misunderstanding and henceforth…the subject of our conversation…all evening?”

“Mm. Yeah. But I’m still gonna have to have you spell it out for me.”

“Rose!”

“Go on, Lisha. Tell me what it is you want.”

Alisha’s eyes flick to the side. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth. “Could you…”

Rose’s grin widens when she adds nothing more. “Could I what?” 

Alisha’s breath skitters short. “C-could you…touch me?”

“What, like this?”

Rose’s hands slowly slide down the plane of Alisha’s stomach. The closer south they travel, the more shaky Alisha’s breath gets. The tighter the muscles in her thighs flex, jerking to close. 

Then, finally, Rose’s fingers ghost over-sensitive, wet folds.

Alisha gasps. She stiffens, her entire body reacting to the power of a single touch.

_I’m her first,_ Rose thinks for what feels like the twentieth time. _I’m the first person ever doing this to her._

There is so much humbling power in that thought: that Rose should be so trusted, so _wanted_ to be the first person to touch Alisha like this. To be the first person _invited_ to Alisha’s bed, to _take_ her. There are so many ways to think about it and each one makes a funny feeling quake in Rose’s chest. 

Her fingers skim up and down and up and down along her labia. Slow, gentle touches. Exploring. 

Alisha shivers.

Then, she gets an idea. “Hey, Lisha. Look at me, yeah?”

Her sea-green eyes flutter open. There’s something that crosses over them—something cloudy and hazy and heady as she’s forced to look down her own body. Rose wonders what she looks like between Alisha’s legs: naked and fingers on her cunt.

Slowly, keeping eye contact, Rose lies down on the bed.

“R-Rose?”

“Is this okay?”

“What are you…” Realization dawns across Alisha’s face, rising and bright like a sun. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure. It’s…a little embarrassing, in fact, how long I’ve been waiting to eat you out.” Rose grins and her fingers toy along Alisha’s opening just to watch her eyelids flutter; her body tremble. “I’d tell you all about it and be super sexy, but I think my mouth’s about to be a little occupied, here.”

Alisha’s giggle is breathy and thin. “Can I…?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, princess, but you can do whatever you fucking like. That’s kind of the whole point.”

Alisha smiles. It’s a twitching thing and small but when, in the next moment, her fingers are digging into Rose’s hair, Rose has to fight a small moan of her own. “God, yes. Yes. Just like that. You don’t even need to ask. That’s perfect, Lisha.”

Alisha nods. She has a funny look on her face like she’s not sure whether to laugh or stare in awe. She does neither and tilts her head back to the pillows.

Rose’s first lick is along the top of her labia. Long and slow. 

Alisha gasps, sharp and high. Her eyes shut tight and her back arches, breasts pushing up into the air. Her foot kicks out, skidding over the sheets as her voice pitches high and crooked, broken, beautiful, “Oh— _heavens_ —Rose!” 

Rose curls her tongue. 

One hand flutters to Alisha’s face. It flexes into the air, going back and forth from Rose’s head to her mouth and in the next instant, she decides to keep hold of her red hair.

_Good choice._

Alisha _moans_ as Rose’s tongue licks lower and pokes inside. Once. Twice. And then Rose slips in her tongue fully and fans it out wide, dragging slowly upward.

The hot sliver and thrust of a tongue inside her robs Alisha of breath. 

She arches. A rather pathetic, thread-thin whine slips out: all high and needy. “Rose— _ah—_ a-ah—”

There’s something particularly wonderful in looking up the rise and fall of Alisha’s torso and how her breasts follow every quick inhale for every just-as-fast exhale. If Rose could purr she thinks she might. Her fingers latch on to the outside of Alisha’s thighs; she digs into the muscle to hold them steady, to keep them open—keep _Alisha_ spread open underneath her— _and isn’t that another delicious thought?_ Then, humming happily, Rose plunges her tongue in again. Presses up. Presses deep.

Alisha’s next gasp is ragged. “Ah! Rose!”

_Perfect. Just like that, Lisha. Keep sounding just like that._

Alisha’s thighs jerk, attempting to press close on either side of her ears. She makes another high, squeaky sound as Rose’s tongue plunges in.

That voice is nothing like her usual voice she uses to command her soldiers. Nothing at all like the expected trumpet fanfare of the Princess of Hyland. These sounds, these gasps, these sighs, these cries—these are all Rose’s and Rose’s alone.

“Rose! _Rose—”_

Alisha’s hands take hold of Rose’s hair and fist. There are tiny undulations in her body that travel from her shoulders down through her hips: small, furtive movements that are aborted before they can ripple out of her in upward thrusts. It’s sweet and vaguely flattering, Rose thinks: the way Alisha is so very obviously caught between the desire to grind up against Rose’s face and pin her head right where she wants Rose to be—and the desire to be as still as possible for convenience’s sake.

Typical Alisha. Always thoughtful. 

Rose hums and thrusts her tongue in again. And again. And again. She presses deeper. Harder. More. Everything Alisha’s gasping and whining for that she’s too sweet and too shy yet to ask for. Idly, Rose wonders if she can get Alisha to the point where Alisha will eventually feel comfortable enough to take charge. If Alisha will make her requests known and, perhaps one day, even have demands. 

Wouldn’t that be something? 

Except, isn’t it something already that Rose even has the chance to think about a ‘next time’ and a whole great stretch of a future before her where they can do this over and over, as many times as they like?

Another upward flick and all of a sudden, with a high, cut-off gasp and pitched whine, she can feel Alisha’s back give a final jerk before the muscles around her contract.

Alisha doesn’t breathe for several seconds. 

Her mouth parts; her body goes tight. It’s like she’s been freeze-framed, caught in the middle of a deep inhale that she holds tight in her gut. Her legs shake. Then, the rest of her sags back. Alisha’s green eyes flutter once, twice; finally, she breathes. Her legs loosen and fall open, lolling idly to the mattress on either side of Rose.

Rose licks her lips, pushing herself up to her elbows first. She rises to her knees. Her hands slide up and down Alisha’s legs.

“All right?”

Alisha nods. She rests a hand over her mouth. Her entire face is flushed. Her chest rises and falls with every short, jagged breath.

“Yes,” Alisha whispers. “Yes. M-more than all right.”

Rose grins. 

For a long moment, she watches as Alisha gradually recuperates. When finally Rose clambers over Alisha’s legs to get to her side, Alisha’s eyes flutter back open. She smiles. As if tugged forward by an invisible force, Rose scoops her up against her chest and holds her tight.

Alisha, after a breath, wraps her arms around her in turn.

Once Alisha’s breath is finally back to normal, as they are idly curled together against the headboard, Alisha turns her head and kisses Rose’s collarbone.

“Rose.”

“Yeah, Lisha?”

“I…haven’t done this before. As you know.”

“Yeah.” Rose quietly laughs. _Not like that was the whole reason for my panic and utter lack of communication these past two weeks._ “But it’s not like I care about that, Lisha.”

“I do.” Alisha turns and with a graceful adjustment of her limbs, straddles Rose’s hips. She’s still naked—they both are—but something about the novelty of that: of Alisha without her armor, of Alisha without any pretense, of Alisha at her most vulnerable still makes Rose’s heart skip a beat. All thoughts zero in on the press of Alisha’s hands against her cheeks, framing her face. “I want this to be good for you, too, Rose. But I’m not…as well-versed in—”

Rose grabs Alisha’s wrist. She turns her head and kisses the center of her palm where the tiny folds criss-cross and vein across one another.

“Rose?”

Rose shakes her head and smiles. She ignores how her eyes are burning. That’s embarrassing anyway. “It’s not like I care about that, Lisha,” she clears her throat and repeats.

“But—”

“—I think you’re underestimating the fact that it’s sex with _you_ that colors this whole thing as amazing.”

Alisha’s eyes grow wide. Her face flushes. “Truly?”

Rose’s grin turns cheeky. Sappy. “Verily and ergo and all that.”

There’s a crinkle to Alisha’s button-nose that causes the creases between her eyes to fold and Rose wants to kiss each one. She wants to kiss everything. She keeps feeling this hot yearning in her chest that burns and feels good and soft and she doesn’t know what to make of it. She doesn’t know how she turned into such a puddle in the middle of sex; that’s not her usual modus operandi. 

But this is sex with Alisha.

And that, somehow, makes Rose think she finally understands what people mean when they call it making love.

Alisha rocks back. Her fingers trail up Rose’s tanned thighs and brush across the short bronze hairs along her front. Rose shivers, grinning. There’s a certain, awed curiosity in Alisha’s gaze as if she hadn’t known her touch could _do_ that to another person. 

“May I—”

“—go ahead.”

When Alisha pushes on the inside of Rose’s thighs to part them, Rose easily complies. She spreads her legs wide on either side of her and watches as Alisha’s face turns pink, pink, pink. Her wide eyes are green and eager, locked on to Rose’s every move.

“Take your time,” Rose hums. “I promise, it’ll be _very_ easy to know when I like something.”

“Am I to understand that means you are…vocal?”

“Louder than I should be, maybe.”

Alisha grins. There’s an unmistakable glint in her eyes, something familiar that Rose recognizes as an eager acceptance of a challenge. It’s the warrior in her, Rose thinks.

“Wonderful,” Alisha breathes and Rose’s heart flops pathetically in her chest.

Alisha’s first gentle strokes along Rose’s folds make her sigh and tilt her head back. The nerves in Rose’s thighs shake and tremble. Alisha’s fingers are two questioning touches against her and Rose makes small noises of encouragement as she moves them in a pleasing upward direction.

And then— 

“A-ah! Right there…” Rose’s gut sparks pleasantly when Alisha’s thumb rubs against her clit. Alisha rubs another circle and Rose softly groans. Her eyes flutter shut. “Yeah. You found it quick, yeah. Feels good, Lisha.”

Alisha leans forward. Her free hand presses flat into the mattress, her forearm brushing against Rose’s side, as the other hand still rubs, drawing slow, idle, teasing circles. Does she know how good that feels? Damn. Alisha kisses Rose’s cheek. “I am very pleased to hear that. But how can I make it better?”

Rose’s eyes flash open. Immediately, she locks eyes with Alisha and grins.

“Want me to show you…?”

When Alisha nods, Rose takes her hand.

The feel of Alisha’s hand against her, underneath her own fingers, makes a sharp shudder travel through Rose. She is warm, pressing against her—rubbing—perfectly following Rose’s every unspoken word down to its letter.

Alisha leaves a wet, hungry kiss against her neck. Rose’s hips bump up. Sparks dart across her skin. She gasps.

“I like that sound very much,” Alisha breathes into her skin. “Do you think you could do that again for me?”

Rose swallows. Heat pools across her skin in warm, freckled-points low in her gut and Rose is less embarrassed than she thinks she expected herself to be at the idea that Alisha’s _voice_ is enough to nearly undo her while her fingers are dancing across her clit.

“M-maybe,” Rose breathily chuckles. “Depends. What are you wanting to do to me?”

Alisha kisses at the hollow of her throat. A slow, soft line of kisses down to her shoulder. “Can I…?”

The press of Alisha’s fingers leads a line down until one presses against her. It takes Rose a moment to realize that Alisha’s trying to get her finger _inside_ her and at first, she nearly laughs. She inhales, about ready to help her until that poking finger finally finds what it’s searching for and the round tip of it begins to press _in._

Rose loses all breath she had stored in her lungs. 

“Fuck—” Rose’s words slip off in a choked sound as that finger presses deeper. All of Alisha’s touches are tentative, everything she is doing is gentle, perhaps too gentle, but it’s still enough to stir smoke and fire in her gut. It’s everything she’s been waiting for. Rose shakes as that finger slides in and in and in.

“Is this okay?”

“Don’t even—” Rose shakes her head and grabs at the back of Alisha’s head with her free hand. Her fingers twist in her hair. She keeps the other hand that was on the back of Alisha’s hand there and presses her closer, deeper. Her whine pitches off-key. Sour and too high. “You’re so good. You’re beautiful. Wonderful. Oh—god—Lisha, just like that. Keep going, okay? Don’t—ngh—”

Alisha lets out a bare, tentative laugh into her shoulder. “I can’t fully see what I’m doing.”

“It’s fine. You’re fine. Just follow my lead.” Rose gasps. “Think you can get another finger in there?”

Alisha’s next meek kiss at her collarbone is all teeth. “Yes. Yes,” she breathes in the same way one might say, _For you, anything._

Rose’s hips jump with the welcome intrusion. Alisha’s two fingers are small, slender things, but enough to satisfy a burning craving Rose has had simmering in her gut for far too long. This is Alisha—Alisha’s fingers inside her—Alisha’s fingers scissoring her apart—Alisha gently fucking her in her slow, learning way. Rose drifts her fingers up and rubs at her own clit.

“A-ah— _ahh—_ h-harder, Lisha!”

“Yes, Rose—”

Shamelessly, Rose begins to move her hips in a counterpoint measure to the thrust and stretch of Alisha’s fingers. Back again and again onto them, harder now. Fill her up; fuck her deep— 

Alisha makes a ragged, breathless, mystified sound at the sight. 

When finally the pleasure slams into Rose like a waterfall, it’s pathetic, probably, the high-pitched sigh-gasp that escapes her. As soon as the heat bursts into the pound of her heartbeat, she clenches and shudders and tilts her head back. Alisha kisses her neck and jawline and continues thrusting her fingers in and in and in.

Rose, laughingly, shaking, lets her hand fall upon Alisha’s to still the movement. “Ah—ah—that’s it. It’s okay. I’m good, Lisha. I’m good.”

“O-oh.” Regrettably, Alisha pulls her lips back and away. Her eyes skim over Rose’s face. Her free hand pushes back her hair from her cheeks. “I…was it—”

“—it was perfect.”

And Rose means it. Too much, maybe, because it’s getting a little difficult to see the world around her.

Alisha blinks. Her mouth falls open as her eyes light on the drops trailing down her cheeks. “Rose? Rose, are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Rose gasps and smiles. “Really, I am. These are happy tears, I promise.” She takes a breath and it’s leafy-thin on its way out of her. “I’m just…I’m just really, really happy, I guess.” It feels like it should be stupid, actually: the joy this gives her. It feels like of all people, Rose shouldn’t be one to cry after sex. But she does. The tears come easily, wonderfully; she hadn’t known sex could be like this. Or would be like this. 

Alisha softens. She leans in and kisses her cheeks and each tear away. Rose hiccups and turns into her.

They stay that way until they fall asleep, completely wrapped one around the other—threaded so close and so tightly—Rose fails to remember where she herself begins and Alisha ends.

**Author's Note:**

>  _I'll take you to the stars_  
>  And we'll be all fine  
> \- "Don't Stop Now" by Daniel Rojas
> 
> thanks for the request, Shanin! <3 <3 i'm so, so glad you like these girls and honestly, your brain is GIGANTIQUE to have all the headcanons you do for them <3 <3 I'm STILL so, so honored to be able to write more Rosali for you ;A; I don't think you know what an absolute delight it is. Thank you so, so much <3 <3
> 
> <3 and thank you for reading <3
> 
> [tw](https://twitter.com/kissykrissey) / [tblr](https://krisseycrystal.tumblr.com/)


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